The Dark Knight, the Boy Wonder, and Patrick
by TheBlueFoxtrot A Samba
Summary: He's not a hero. He doesn't 'fight the good fight'. Well, someone has to be the black sheep of the Bat family.
1. Black Sheep amongst Bats

A submission to the Robin/Little Brother contest in the YJFC forum.

The OC is mine.

* * *

The Graysons are the only normal he knows. They keep his father as a handy man they don't really need because of his mother. Old ties to friends hold deep. Even when the friend has long since moved on. His mother left the circus life – them – what seems like forever ago.

When his dad – a sad, angry man who could have been so much more, could have been a father – drinks too much one night and finally puts a bullet in his own brain, no one's really surprised. Patrick Jordan, his six year old son, didn't shed a tear. The only real difference in his life was the Graysons had official papers for their new son.

Dick, their biological son, is thrilled to have a 'big brother'. Patrick likes him well enough; the four year old boy is a good playmate. He is, though, annoyed that he can never get away from his shadow. Very difficult when sharing a room. So he tells him there are monsters that will eat him if he talks when the lights go out.

As it is, he loves his life with the circus, with the Graysons. The Flying Graysons. He was one of them too, the Gryphon, since forever. At least that's how it feels; really, just since nine.

Dick's not allowed to perform yet, but he still practices. He takes immense joy in needling little Dick that he's too tiny to fly in the show. That they should call him the 'Flying Shrimp'. Dick threatens to push him off the high platform.

He makes good on his threat almost every time.

It's another two years before the Robin joins the show. The boys are nine and eleven, when life changes forever.

Dad caught him, and he holds onto the bar because he has to catch the Robin. It's an easy thing, with the momentum practically doing the work for him, and he lands easily next to his brother, like always. Then Dad has to catch Mom, and they remove the net like always, and she jumps.

And it's such a terrible noise, like a bone snapping, and they all see it at the same time. They're falling so fast but _so slow_, and there's screaming, and they…he can't stop _screaming._

* * *

Patrick wakes from his sleep – _nightmare, nightmare! –_ choking back the scream. His stomach convulses, and it makes him dry-heave for a minute straight. His hearts pounding, chest is heaving, and the moon's still in the sky.

He tells himself his chest hurts because that's where that Dick kicked him earlier while sparring. Patrick reaches for his nightstand and fumbles to open the bottle, taking two pills to dry swallow.

Lay down, breathe, and don't think.

_Whatever you do, don't think._

* * *

Dick wanders into Patrick's pitch black room, light peeking around the edge of the curtains and trailing before him through the door. He's still drying water from his ebony hair as he navigates through the room, stepping over discarded clothes, a shoe here and there, random tech.

"'Trick. Get up, man," he tells him as he stops at the head of the bed.

There's a lump covered head to toe in a sheet. The blond-headed boy doesn't twitch.

"Dude, it's two in the afternoon. Stop being a vampire!"

Dick emphasizes his command with a swat to what he believes to be his brother's head. Instead, it feels like a knee. He sighs and rolls his eyes heavenward. The guy was like a contortionist in his sleep.

"I swear to Batman, if you don't get out of this bed right now, I'll dye your hair pink and purple, take pictures, and send them to every girl in your phone."

The lump that he assumed was his brother shifted and groaned before sitting up. Dick tilted his head and squinted at the dark figure on the bed. It would seem Patrick was laid _across_ his bed. Well, it was massive enough that it really didn't matter.

"What?" the older boy questioned.

"I told you that we're meeting my team today. I've been going on and on and on about it for, like, a freakin' week."

"So?" Patrick couldn't help the confusion and yawn in his voice.

"So you have two hours to get ready, and _be _ready, or else."

"Pft. Or else what?"

He actually hadn't gotten that far, but details, details. Thinking quickly, he plucked the towel from his head and rolled it.

"I'll beat you with a dictionary. Now, get a move on, man!"

Dick popped the towel over Patrick's head and left, turning the light on as he left. Behind him, his brother hissed as if the light burned his dark eyes, which it probably did, and pulled his pillow over his head.

Forget the little Robin. He was going back to sleep.

When Dick came back ten minutes later, he was not pleased.

* * *

Alfred was preparing the menu for the week. Master Bruce had left some hours ago to tend to daily affairs at Wayne Tech. Masters Bruce and Robin had gotten home rather early this morning, but that hardly ever stopped Master Bruce. The boys though…well, it was fortunate today was Saturday.

As for Patrick, he could not fault the boy for staying awake while his father and brother performed their nightly duties. How anyone could sleep when somewhere one's family was being attacked and shot at…he'd yet to find a trick to it. As it was, Alfred had developed into something like an insomniac.

He knew that Master Patrick would like nothing more than to be able to fight along his brother and father and that he felt no little shame over not being able to. Of course, the deaths of the Graysons affected both boys deeply, and while Master Dick seemed to have reasonably handled it – barring his eccentric double life – Patrick was left with a rather severe fear of heights.

From upstairs, Alfred heard a yell followed by a muffled thud and cursing. Pounding footsteps – _running_ – soon after and the echo of laughter.

"You think that's funny, pipsqueak? I'll show you funny!"

"You're doing a great job now!"

It would seem that Master Dick has taken the liberty of waking up his brother in some other unconventional method. Alfred just hoped they didn't break another va –

There was a solid thud followed by the high shattering of what could only be a very expensive, rare vase and dead silence. Because Master Bruce had no other kind.

Alfred reminded himself, it was not his vase, _not _his vase, _not his vase_, and retrieved the broom and dustpan. Naturally, when he found the broken Ming, there was absolutely no other soul anywhere near it.

There was, however, a trail of water, and he was certain if he followed it, it'd lead straight to Master Patrick's room.

* * *

Patrick tore through his closet, methodically picking out appropriate casual/concealing wear and ignoring the little bird perched on the footboard of his bed. He let his irritation at the kid show, but that emotion usually lingered at all times while being mixed with affection. A hand-in-hand thing between brothers.

After the thing with the vase, the two had retreated to their respective rooms before they could be caught. Patrick stripped the wet sheets – courtesy of Dick and his water balloons. He was _so _going to get him for that – off of his bed and threw them down the laundry-chute before heading to the bathroom.

He went over what the agenda was for the day; a habit he'd gotten into that actually helped him get things done. Now that he thought about it, his little brother had basically talked about nothing else but introducing him to his teammates.

Which was just awesome. The black sheep of the Bat family hanging out with the Boy Wonder's super friends. So fun.

He pulled a pair of black jeans out of the closet along with a blue T-shirt. He caught a look at Dick's hang-dog expression in the mirror. He turned to his little brother.

"What?" he held the clothes in front of himself. "You don't like these? Should I wear red like you so we don't lose track of each other in a crowd?"

Dick rolled his eyes and fell back on the bed.

"You've been going through your clothes for hours. Pick something already!"

See? That's why he ignored the annoying little twerp. And it had not been hours. Ten minutes tops. Maybe twenty.

"Fine. Not these either," Patrick tossed the clothes onto the 'reject' pile, which was about one-third of his closet.

Dick just sighed.

"Sorry we're late, guys. What took us so long? Oh, my brother was looking through his clothes and simply had _nothing_ to wear because the ''fit' just didn't go with the hair'. Don't you just hate when that happens?"

Dick was suddenly attacked by a flying shoe. He grabbed the shoe and sat up, prepared to throw it back, but was hit in the face as soon as he was upright with a well-timed pair of pants. The ones Patrick had been wearing, as a matter of fact.

"Gah!"

Dick clawed the garment off his face. Patrick stood smirking at the disgruntled look on the brunette's face as he did up the belt of the jeans he'd pulled on. Without looking, he snagged a shirt from his closet and slipped the grey polo over his head. He settled a black fedora on his blond head and placed a pair of Aviator shades over his grey eyes. Black Converses completed the look as he knelt to tie the laces.

"Done! Let's go, birdie. At this point, Wally will have beaten us there by now," he rushed out the door, snagging his black leather jacket on the way.

Dick glared at the closet before hopping off of the bed and following his brother into the hall. As he pulled on his jacket, Patrick found himself being attacked by a flying shoe, directly to the head. As a result, Dick found himself running – _déjà vu _– from his brother. At least he was moving faster. This time, all vases were spared.

* * *

I'm thinking two more chapters before this is done.


	2. This Is Jay

Black Canary was just leaving after checking over the training system when the transport announced the arrival of Robin and a visitor. She stood to the side, waiting for the boy to pass through, not even concerned with his visitor. It's not as if the Batman's protégé would bring anyone to Mt. Justice who had no business there.

Robin flew past her, flipping through the air to land on his feet. A blond-headed blur zoomed past her, tackling the young hero to the ground as his hat dropped from his head. Robin sent an impressive punch to the taller boy's head, flipping the two over.

"Ha!"

Robin braced his forearm down on his throat, but the other boy rolled over the again.

"Ha _ha_!"

The two boys continued to wrestle like children on a school yard who'd seen too many WWF reruns featuring the Rock and Triple H. Black Canary actually had to admit to herself, that was an interesting alteration to the 'People's Elbow' and 'Pedigree'. The whole while, they yelled insults at each other.

"You hit like a four year old girl!"

"You _wish_ you could hit that hard!"

Granted, they weren't all that witty, but still.

At one point, Robin nearly came to his feet, but a kick to the back of the knees brought him down. For a moment, she was impressed the blond boy was doing so well. Then with a well-aimed kick, he was tumbling away from Robin and fell, sprawled at her feet on his back.

Then the blond saw her. She stared down at him, wide, grey eyes, mess of curly blond hair, baby face and wondered who this kid was supposed to be. He very nearly _gawked_ at her because – _holy bikini, Batman! _– the woman was wearing a leotard and fishnet that left little to the imagination. And he was already a _very_ imaginative boy.

"Well…" he said, blinking up at her, "Get me some spandex Kevlar and a kitschy costume and call me Tweety."

She glanced from the blond to Robin, who was dusting imaginary dirt from his clothes, situating his shades back on just so, and pointedly not looking at the potentially scary bird. Not as scary as Batman, but she had very impressive glares and stares. Plus, she could probably kick his butt in several different ways.

"Robin."

One word, two syllables…held a lot of foreboding. He turned to her and almost called her 'ma'am' out of reflex.

"Yes?"

"I know that you know better, but explain who this is anyway."

He shrugged and gestured to the boy still flat on his back.

"This is Jay."

Arching a slim brow, she glanced down at him again.

"Hi!" he waved at her.

"Get up," she ordered.

He did so, popping up directly to take her hand and bow over it. Robin sighed and slapped a hand to his forehead. It had been too much to hope for that Patrick wouldn't do this.

He should've taken preventative measures for this. Darn you, retrospect.

"I'm honored to make the acquaintance of so epic a heroine such as yourself," he straightened and flashed a boyish, hopeful smile. "In three years or so, I would love to take you to this great little café I know. They have these beignets out of this world."

Black Canary eyed him with half amusement, half confusion and asked,

"Why are you here?"

Since Robin seemed to busy muttering to himself about hormones and morons to explain,

"I'm Jay, Robin's _older_ brother. He wants to use me as show and tell for his team," Jay informed her, nodding knowingly.

"Hm," she pulled her hand out of his and placed both of hers on her hips, "Did Batman okay you being here?"

"Of course."

Right. As if Robin would do something against the Bats orders. Other than that whole Cadmus thing. But that didn't count; it just didn't.

"All right then. Robin, there will be a training session tomorrow. Let me know if Batman needs you for something this time."

"Got it," he nodded into his hand, still unable to look his teacher in the eye.

"Jay, it was interesting meeting you."

"Oh, it was my pleasure," he said earnestly, pressing a hand over his heart.

She turned and walked to the transport. Jay tilted his head as he stared after her departing figure. After she was gone, he said,

"Mm. I hate to see her leave, but I love t – hey! Dude!"

Robin had walked up behind him and slapped him upside the head with his hat.

"Don't flirt with her!"

Jay turned up his nose and grandly situated the hat back on his head.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"You completely made yourself look like a total idiot with her, and me by extension. Besides that and the fact that she's way out of your league even when you _are_ eighteen, she'll probably be married to Green Arrow by then."

"Meh. He'll probably be dead by then. Or M.I.A or paralyzed with some form of brain damage. In which case, she'll need someone to comfort her, yeah?" he reasoned, giving Robin a cheesy grin.

What was with him? Jay was a jerk sometimes and an idiot most times, but he usually wasn't thi… Realization dawned, and Robin gave him a dark look.

"You're going to do that idiot-older-brother thing to embarrass me, aren't you?"

Jay just grinned smugly and mussed up Robin's hair as he walked by him to the hall. Robin sighed as he followed him.

"A little detective, you are."

"I knew I forgot something," Robin muttered.

"Honestly, as much as you've been going on about this, one would think you'd have me sign the contract. I always hold to it."

"I know. Completely slipped my mind though. Just…promise me you won't do anything too stupid?"

Jay turned around and kept walking backwards down the hall. He angled his shades down his nose so he could look his little brother in the eye.

"Like pull out baby pics of you in your skivvies with your teddy bear, Mr. Dido?"

"You wouldn't dare…" Robin growled.

Going for Mr. Dido was low. Just _cold-blooded._

"Maybe I will, perchance I won't," he waved a hand airily. "Just consider whatever I do…_do_ as payback for the water balloons."

"Trick," Robin accused, scowling.

"Dick," Jay shot back, smirking.

"This is the last time I ever take you anywhere."

"Aw, don't be like that. I'll behave. Scout's honor."

"Pft. Like you were _ever_ a scout."

If anything, Patrick would have been forced to do any of that. Then he promptly would have gotten himself kicked out, grinning the whole way out the door.

"I _so _am. I'm a Bat Scout. And I swear," Jay held up his pinky and index fingers and put his right hand over his heart, "on my honor as a Bat Scout that I'll uphold the name of Batman in all his terror and might while bringing no shame to the _familia._"

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes and shoved past Jay. "Just don't be surprised if you end up getting tased before the day is out."

"Oh, like I haven't heard that threat before," Jay waved that comment away. "You're being over-dramatic."

Over-dramatic. Coming from Patrick of all people, that was just plain insulting. That was like Batman getting on someone else's case for traumatizing someone.


End file.
